"Be my guest." Nabi's response was laced with sarcasm, but Hansol didn't hesitate to accept her invitation. He still wasn't over her—not by a long shot—but seeing her suffer in silence, alone, felt wrong. Now that he knew how crushing it could be, he couldn't bring himself to leave her in the same pit of despair. That, at least, was the standard he'd set for himself.
The stars twinkled above them, casting a gentle glow over their faces. The dim streetlight at the corner barely added to the serenity, but it was enough. In any other situation, the moment might have been peaceful. In any other world, they might have found comfort in it. But not tonight.
"I won't force you to talk if you don't want to," Hansol said softly, his voice betraying none of the tension that tied his chest in knots. "But I'm here, if you need to say anything." He couldn't stop himself from offering her this—he wasn't sure why, but something about her pain made his heart ache. She'd broken his heart, sure, but he couldn't stand seeing her struggle with her own.
Nabi couldn't make sense of it. She had pushed him away so fiercely before, and yet here he was, offering his presence with a sincerity that twisted her gut. She never imagined she'd be here again, allowing him to be the one to listen.
She sighed and turned her gaze to the night sky, feeling the weight of a thousand thoughts pressing on her. "Why are you being nice to me?" Her voice was sharp, though the question carried a hollow ache beneath it.
Hansol shrugged, his fingers absently pulling at the hem of his shirt. "You seem like you need it."
Her lips curled into a bitter smile. "Thanks," she muttered, though the words felt more like a mask than genuine gratitude.
"So, want to talk? Or we can just sit here." His voice was steady, offering her space without pushing, a quiet invitation for whatever she needed. It wasn't about trying to fix her—it was just... about being there.
Nabi's throat tightened, her eyes avoiding his. "Can we just... sit?" she asked quietly, the simple request betraying how much she just wanted the noise to stop. Hansol chuckled softly.
"Sure." He sat beside her, the silence between them familiar in its strange comfort. In a way, it reminded him of his group's quiet moments after a loss—a quiet that didn't need words, just presence. People cope in different ways. He was learning, slowly, how to be there without needing to fix anything. For Nabi, it seemed, silence was a kind of healing. And Hansol could live with that.
As the minutes passed, he found himself watching her more closely than he ever had before. It was funny how little details, things he'd overlooked in the past, seemed to pop out at him now. The mole on her cheek, the way the corner of her lips would twitch when she was trying not to smile, the curve of her jaw as she looked out into the distance. All these things were starting to feel... important.
And he hated himself for it.
Why do I still care? he thought bitterly. The two of them were over. She'd made sure of that. And yet, here he was, noticing everything about her like he hadn't seen it before. What is wrong with me?
"You still... like the stars, I'm assuming?" His voice was almost too casual, a weak attempt at distracting himself from the flood of feelings threatening to overwhelm him.
She glanced at him, a flicker of recognition in her eyes. "You remember that?"
"How could I forget?"
The words were almost too soft, a pull he couldn't ignore. Nabi felt her heart stutter for a second, caught off guard by the simple honesty in his tone. She bit her lip, trying to suppress the rush of emotions. But her voice betrayed her. "I feel like we're back where we started, Hansol."
The way she said his name made his breath catch. He hadn't heard it in so long, not like that. Not with that softness, that subtle tenderness. He glanced at her side profile, the slight curve of her lips, the faint lines by her eyes, traces of joy and laughter that once filled the spaces between them. How had I missed this before?
He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. Do I still want her? His stomach twisted, realizing that the ache hadn't gone away. In fact, it had only grown stronger.
"Do you... regret us?" he asked before he could stop himself, his voice barely a whisper, as though he didn't want to hear the answer. But it spilled out anyway—the question that had been haunting him for so long. He couldn't take it back now, no matter how much he wanted to.
Nabi's response surprised him—she let out a soft laugh, almost bitter, but not entirely. "No. Never. Do I regret what I did? Yeah. But I... I enjoyed spending time with you, honestly."
There it was. The bittersweet admission that had been sitting between them for so long. The truth that neither of them had been ready to say out loud.
A long pause followed, before he broke the silence again, his voice quieter than before. "They just passed a rule at my company, about enhancing the privacy of idols. One of my members got a girlfriend... they're doing fine."
Nabi's gaze met his for the first time that night. Her eyes searched his, seeing something in them that she hadn't expected. Determination. Resolve. Maybe even hope.
But then her brow furrowed. "Hansol... how do you know that will be the same for us?" Her words were quieter, heavier with the weight of fear and uncertainty.
He looked down, his hands clenching at his sides before he steadied himself. He'd wanted to say something confident, something reassuring, but it wasn't that simple. Instead, he reached for her hands, slowly, as though asking for permission. When she nodded, he gently took them in his, his touch warm and steady.
"I'm not the most romantic guy in the world," he murmured, "but I'll do whatever it takes to make sure we stay out of the public eye. I'll keep us private. So... can we give us a try again? On our terms? No pressure."
Nabi blinked, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. She wanted to say something—anything—but the lump in her throat made it impossible. She had never seen him like this before—so open, so willing. It was breaking her apart, and she didn't know what to do with all of it.
"I... yes," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "But... I just don't want to be a burden to you."
Hansol's face softened. His eyes held a tenderness that almost broke her. "You will never be a burden to me. I'm asking you because I want to. And we don't have to jump into anything. We can take it slow, at our own pace. Whatever works for us."
She chuckled softly, though it was filled with a mixture of relief and disbelief. For the first time in what felt like forever, the weight of her life's troubles seemed to ease, even if just a little. It was just her, Hansol, and the vast, starry sky above them.
"Okay," she said, her voice quieter now, more certain. "We'll move at our own pace."
